The Trawlerman, стр. 72

‘He’ll be fine,’ he said holding out the crisp packet.

She shook her head.

‘He’s been alone his whole life. He doesn’t know how to react when other people try to help him. Bird bath is one thing. But the whole bloody house is another.’

‘So he told you, then? We had to do something.’

Curly nodded. He had grown up around here, but could no longer afford to live on Dungeness himself. ‘Like I said. He’ll be fine. He’s a quiet man, best of times.’

‘Tell me about it.’

Curly picked up another crisp and looked at it for longer than any bar snack deserved. ‘He loves you, you know? Kind of this old-man crush. If it wasn’t for that, he’d probably find it easier.’

‘He tell you that?’

He popped it into his mouth and chewed. ‘Doesn’t really need to, does he? Want another wine? I’m getting another.’

When he returned with the wine he leaned in. ‘I got you a large one as a thank you.’

‘For what?’

He lowered his voice. ‘I heard that professor guy is going to plead guilty. Tina is definitely off the bloody hook.’

Jill had told her that. Alex had been surprised, but his lawyer was probably advising him to. If he pleaded innocent, there was always the risk that the police would dig more deeply to make their case, and if they did, there was a risk, however small, they would find out the truth about Terry Neill and the bad things he had really done. However much money he had stashed away would be gone, and then they might start to connect him to the death of Ayman Younis and the death of Bob Glass. Pleading guilty to the murder of a drug dealer seven years ago was not the worst option. With good behaviour he would be out in five years and the money would still be waiting for him safely overseas or wherever it was.

‘Going out tomorrow on the boat,’ he said, as if he felt the need to change the subject. ‘It’ll be a bit of a blow out there. We’ll have some bream, I dare say.’

It was a kind of pointless observation, and she was grateful for it.

Despite too much wine, she slept well, but was woken thick-headed by the noise of a car horn.

She blinked, went to the bathroom and looked down from the window.

Below, engine running, was a Ford Escort, sunburst red, with alloy wheels and a biplane spoiler. Her daughter, sitting in the passenger seat in a big, baggy pink hoodie Alex didn’t recognise, waved.

Alex stared for a while, open-mouthed, then ran downstairs and opened the back door.

It was Stella behind the wheel. She got out and smiled. She was dressed in green dungarees and an orange sweater. Under her short, bleached hair, her face was still brown from the summer sun. ‘Just wanted to say thanks,’ she said, holding out her hand to shake. ‘For everything you’ve done for Tina. And me.’

‘I didn’t do anything,’ said Alex, leaving the hand where it was, in mid-air.

Stella tilted her head. ‘Yeah you did. I know. I’m not stupid. But I am very, very grateful. You’re a good woman.’ She held out her hand a second longer, but still Alex didn’t take it.

‘You shouldn’t be driving this car.’

The wind had come up, as Curly had predicted it would. Dry grey leaves from the sunken woods were flying up into the air around them. ‘It’s a real bit of history, this car. German-built. Bosch fuel injection. Get a hundred and ten m.p.h. out of it no problem. And Frank doesn’t need it any more.’

‘What’s this about, Mum?’ Zoë sounded uncertain.

‘It’s mine. I don’t see why I shouldn’t drive it.’

‘Nothing, Zoë.’ Alex turned to her daughter. ‘Why don’t you go inside?’

‘I borrowed Stella’s jumper, Mum. It got cold last night. I’m just going to change and give it her back. Want to come in, Stella?’

‘I better not, Zo,’ said Stella. ‘I don’t think I’m staying.’

Zoë ran inside the house.

‘The old thing’s been hidden away all this time. It deserves a good run.’

‘I thought it was your brother who fixed it,’ said Alex slowly, when her daughter had gone.

‘What brother? Who told you I have a brother?’

Alex looked confused. ‘Mandy Hogben said he was up there fixing the car at night.’

Stella laughed loudly. ‘It was me fixed the bloody car. I don’t know. Maybe she thinks a woman couldn’t do something like that, poor cow.’

‘Let me get this straight. It was you I saw up at the Air Force Memorial car park, wasn’t it?’

Stella didn’t answer directly but Alex knew she was right.

‘You fixed my car, too, didn’t you?’

Stella leaned across the roof of the red car. Alex could see her face reflected in the shiny paint. ‘After a fashion. Yeah. Sorry about that. I was just trying to protect us, you understand? Me and Tina. That’s all I’ve ever been doing.’

It was as if the temperature had dropped. ‘You restored this?’ Alex said again, looking at the car.

‘Like I said. I’m good with machines,’ she said quietly. ‘Been working on it for years.’

Alex touched the scab on her face where Terry Neill had cut it. ‘It was you, that day in the lock-up too. Not Tina. It was you who dropped this car on him.’

‘What was it you said earlier?’ Stella said. ‘I didn’t do anything.’

‘Except you did.’

Stella got back inside the car. The Ford’s steering wheel had a red leather cover on it, held on with a red lace. Stella put her hands on it and spoke to Alex through the open window. ‘After he found out about me and Tina, it was a matter of time. You should have seen the state of Tina. It killed me. Curly just assumed it was her that killed him. So did your copper friend. And so did you.’

She started the engine. ‘For a while I thought you were going to spoil everything. I tried to throw you off. But you’re a good person, Alex. You did